The Waiting Room
by scribhneoir
Summary: There was nothing else to do but wait. Oneshot.


**The Waiting Room.**

He would wait.

He had been swept along with the emergency medi-witches when they had arrived, been questioned as to the next of kin and then shown into a crowded waiting room. The silence was almost deafening in the cramped room as people simply waited. People clung to each other and families huddled together as if by mere proximity they could provide comfort. Whispers were shared as if no-one dared to disturb the hushed atmosphere.

But he was alone.

So he waited.

He had been of use when it had first happened. He had held her hand as they waited for the emergency assistance to arrive, he had tried to tell her that everything was going to be okay, that he wasn't going to leave her, all the while he was trying not to panic. He had held her gaze and tried to reassure her as chaos reigned around them. When help had arrived, he had been able to provide the healers with all the necessary information, retelling once again what had happened. He had relived the moment when she had literally fallen into his arms, all the while thinking that, but for a chance meeting in a Ministry corridor, she may have been alone. He didn't leave her, until he knew she was in safe hands, and then it was only to place a few important calls. He had drawn a blank when they asked him about next of kin, but he knew who would know. He had made short calls to Hermione and then Harry, both of them assuring him that they'd be there as soon as they could. He had called his parents, asked them to let the necessary people know and had then returned to the waiting room.

So he waited.

People came and went as they were either called for treatment or called away to see family and friends. Occasionally he would receive a questioning look as if they recognized him before they each shared a sad smile and returned to their private thoughts. This was neither the time nor the place and for that Ron was truly grateful. He shared handshakes and whispered greetings with familiar faces as people arrived and joined the vigil. Hugs were exchanged as his parents arrived and pulled up chairs beside him. His mother encouraged a number of their friends to help her, and before he knew it a mug of hot tea had been placed in his hands. His brothers arrived, one by one, and found a place in the room, Harry right beside him. Hermione had quietly opened the door before gently pulling him outside the room and into a long, gentle hug. She allowed him a moment of respite before joining him in the room.

And so they waited.

Every time the door opened a multitude of hopeful faces turned towards the door, but rather than news, a new person was added to the vigil every time. Old faces from Hogwarts joined familiar faces from the Order as the room became more and more crowded. When room for even the extra conjured chairs was in short supply, people simply gave up their chair for another and either stood along the wall or sat on the floor. Veterans from the war bunched together on a large sofa with people who were only a few years out of school as they shared whispered stories and half forgotten memories. Sad smiles were exchanged when Neville came rushing through the door, his hands full with a large purple plant which he quickly handed to a grateful Healer, before he too found a place against a wall. Two people entered the room quickly after him, dressed in trainee healers robes, but obviously there for private reasons. They also found a spot near a wall, and Ron shared a sad smile with two of his former Gryffindors.

And so they waited.

Unfamiliar faces joined their ranks and stories were exchanged of the person they held in common, sad smiles were shared as they remembered times long past. Ron had long since given up his chair and had gotten to the stage when he could no longer stand the stifling atmosphere. He quietly slipped out the door, looking for a breath of fresh air, but the sight that met his eyes drove the air from his lungs.

There, at the end of the corridor was the Healer who had questioned him about next of kin. He was speaking with a young woman who Ron vaguely remembered as the Professor's niece. Feeling like he was intruding, Ron slipped back into the waiting room and began to dread the next time the door was opened. He looked from person to person, some were huddled together, others were away in their own world, reliving moments long past. He felt a hand slip into his and squeezed it gratefully. He wasn't alone.

The door opened.

End


End file.
